


So You Want to be a Star, Kid?

by Zeltard



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeltard/pseuds/Zeltard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I want to ask you a big favor, a birthday present you could say. I know you aren’t too keen to help out, but we’ve known each other long enough that it’s about time. ”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	So You Want to be a Star, Kid?

Yesterday was your birthday, and today is the day you are going to finally celebrate it. No cake and no streamers, that was for kids. This is going to be your first step in adulthood and nothing was going to stand in your way, except... Unfortunately what you wanted to do wasn’t as easy as snapping your fingers, you’d need the help of someone. Even if said someone didn’t know he was going to help you.  
You were just like any boy when you came of age, except for a few explicit details. Ever since you hit puberty you knew something was a little odd with you sexually. It wasn’t like you had some sort of eureka moment with your sexuality, it wasn’t about people or their genders. That didn’t affect the things that got you off. After a few sessions of curious late night googling sessions on all the things that popped into your mind, you started to piece together the puzzle. It wasn’t until you were about sixteen that you’d finally figured out your issue.

It wasn’t something you talked about with anyone; it was your little secret. It started when you got your first webcam. That little thing was the only way to really get yourself going, not to mention relieve your urges. As soon as that lens was focused on you and you could see the flashing red light, your shorts got tight. The files piled up, and you’d occasionally consider signing up for one of those webcam peepshow sites, but something kept getting in your way. 

Your age.  


\---

  
With a heavy sigh you lifted your heavy hand and gave three solid knocks on the familiar apartment door. It was only just now that you realized how sweaty your palms were, shaking at the thought of the conversation to come. Part of you wished you could take the knocks back, but the sound of heavy footsteps on the other side of it notified that it was just a little bit too late to make a break for it. Ding-dong ditching was such a childish thing to do anyways. After noticing your hand still held up awkwardly against the door you stuffed both hands into the pockets of your jeans. You counted the steps because it felt like ages before the knob turned. The homey sounding creek and rough deep voice that you’ve known since you were in grade school were a good ground, it was no different than the last time you’d come to visit. No reasons to be nervous or awkward. You clear your throat and prepare yourself to speak. Before the elder Strider can open his mouth to tell you that Dave was out visiting his friends- you interject. Of course you already knew that, you weren’t here to see your best friend.

“Hey there Mister Strider, can I come in?” With a grin you glance up at the only slightly taller man, you might have had a late growth spurt but you really shot up. As much as referring to him like he was your teacher made you sound like you were still thirteen, you only really called him that because you knew it irked him. He countered your cheery little grin with a glower, leaning on the frame of the door before heaving a heavy sigh.

“John, dude. You’re fuckin eighteen now you don’ gotta go around actin like a kid no more. Christ.” He moved aside and gestured inside of the apartment. It was clear that he wasn’t the fondest about your company. You can only assume he was busy working away with a project, or laying out on the futon watching some shitty reality TV show. “Dave’ll be home in a while, you can just go chill until he gets here. I don’t really care.”

You shake your head and walk past him, kicking off your shoes and taking a seat on the futon. Even though you were a little shaky and you were finding it hard to focus on anything but your filthy plan, you found it easy to fall into routine here. Your choice in seating was the far end of the futon, where a can of beer was open with it’s condensation dripping down the side of it and a bag of Doritos laid open. Of course you can’t help but help yourself to a handful of them, clearly Dave’s older brother was the epitome of selflessness. The warmth of the cushion indicates that your latter guess about his previous place was right, and that you had just taken his spot on the futon. You knew this is exactly where he liked to sit, without the help of the indentation in the cushion. It was some sort of sick game to you to try and get under this older man’s skin. He was always so calm and collected, taking everything in stride. Nobody would understand just how pleased it made you when you got a rise out of him.

“We’ve gone over this fuckin’ thousands of times, Egbert. This is where I sit, and your ass goes on the floor if you take my spot. If I didn’t know you well enough I’d question your intelligence.” Despite his big talk he takes his ‘new’ seat next to you. You chalk up another victory and offer him a smug grin, getting comfortable by very visibly wiggling yourself down into the spot Bro had made for himself earlier.

“I wouldn’t say it was thousands.” You start to pick at the seams and threads on the outside of your jeans, nervousness seeping back in as you felt those sharp eyes focused right on you. Hell he could probably tell something was on your mind just by how you were acting, you could feel him about to make a crack about the way you were making loving eye contact with your feet. Alright John, it’s now or never. If you don’t spit it out you’ll get too fucking overwhelmed to do it, and you’ll spend the rest of the week kicking yourself for it.

“I want to ask you a big favor, a birthday present you could say. I know you aren’t too keen to help out, but we’ve known each other long enough that it’s about time. ” You lick at your lips, your heart racing in your chest. Anyone in their right mind would hear that little crack in your voice. It wasn’t puberty; it was your nerves trying to break through your cool-guy act. This wasn’t some easy question, and bringing the topic up with someone as unpredictable as Bro Strider was tough. You played out the situation in your head thousands of times and it came out different each time. He didn’t bother with a vocal response, he gave the classic raised brow asking you to go on and you do, at least you try to.

“When I was a kid, Dave told me you were some sort of weirdo pornstar. I laughed it off as a joke, but I got curious and started searching. It didn’t take a lot of work to find you, and well I had to admit that he wasn’t lying. I know for a fact you’ve got a lot of ties with the bigger filming companies and are still regularly filming, and I want in.” You pause for a well-earned breath, tipping your head up to look into those black shades, instead of engraving the thread count of your socks into memory. “I want you to let me meet your agent, or however you do it. Help me out.” You called that talking but it was more like word vomit. You tried to pull the sentences together and struggled, losing the confidence to look at him. Despite how many times you had practised it in the mirror of your bathroom, it just didn’t flow the way you thought it would.

The way you know he was looking at you didn’t make it feel any better, you could feel it. Something about the elder Strider just made you feel like you were on the hot plate. Just when you had convinced yourself that it wasn’t going to get any worse, he actually started laughing. His laugh was a warm and low chuckle you’ve rarely heard in your life, if it wasn’t rudely directed at you, you might have enjoyed hearing it. “That ain’t no job for you, kid. If you want to make cash go pick up a minimum wage job. If you think the industry means easy money, you’re so far from right you’ve gone miles past just wrong. I don’t think you’ve ever even had sex, let alone have the experience to do it for an audience.” 

“That isn’t what I’m interested in, Bro! I don’t even care about the money. It’s not something you’d understand I’m sure, and I’m not all that interest in explaining my big long life’s journey to you. I just need you to help me out, and you’re the only one I can turn to.” Much to your own displeasure, your voice came out as a strangled sounding whine, hands clenched in frustration. You want to add in the fact you aren’t a kid but you’re sure he knows it.

“It’s a big choice, and I’m not sure you’re ready to make it. I don’t want to bring you out there and have them laugh in your face, John. How do I know that you know the demands and that you’ve actually got what it takes to make it? You ain’t no pretty girl with fake tits ready to swallow down some old guys cock to pay her rent. It’s harder for men unless they got dong to their knees.” He took a breath and sighed before continuing on. “I’m not sayin’ you don’t, but I don’t want to be the helpin’ hand to your god damned broken dreams.”

“I’ll show you I have what it takes.” Your words aren’t spoken with the confidence you’d intended, but at least you got them out. Even if you were shaking and red in the face, you had the confidence that you could prove Bro wrong. He had no idea how many hours you’d spent in front of a recording camera working on your skill. You knew you’d have to blow someone for a part, if that’s what it took to get the job you’d do it.


End file.
